Chatting Up Ghosts
by a-violet-by-a-mossy-stone
Summary: Dean meets a girl while on the case in Lily Dale. A cool, sarcastic, psychic girl with an attitude to match his own. Written at the request of my best friend Ria, because I don't normally write OC's.
1. Chapter 1

Dean plopped down into the booth across from Sam at the Good Graces Café in Lily Dale, New York. He rolled his eyes and grumbled. Once was enough, he never wanted to eat here again. This whole town was crazy, because they _wanted_ to be crazy. Some people (like he and Sam) got handed a life where you dealt with crazy to survive, but these people craved it, sought it out, and enjoyed every ridiculous fake minute of it.

Sam was engrossed in the menu, drooling over all the 'healthy options' when she caught Dean's eye. A small, slim woman in her late twenties, with short, dark hair that fluffed out from her face, huge brown eyes, a sassy smile, and a thin silver hoop in her nose. She directed that smile at Dean and made her way over to their table, her hips swaying as she walked. She wore a sage green apron over a brown tank top and jeans, and Dean's smile withered when he realized she was probably just another New Age wanna-be-psychic hippie.

"Hi, I'm Camber. Welcome to Good Graces. Can I get you boys something to eat?" her voice was lower than Dean expected, but he appreciated the lack of perk. She was tiny, no more than five feet tall. She sounded almost bored, but her tone was edged with sarcasm, and Dean was intrigued.

"Hi! I'll have the Veggie Tofu Scrambler, sprouted wheat toast, and a side of soy sausage. And some more coffee when you have a second." Sam smiled and handed her the menu. She rolled her eyes but wrote it all down and took the menu from him.

"And for you?" she asked, sounding like she expected Dean to request something similar.

"I'll have the Ultimate Omelet, side of bacon, and a short stack. None of that soy crap, real meat. And a slice of apple pie if you've got it." Dean flashed his bad boy smile and Camber raised one eyebrow and smirked.

"Now that's what I like to hear. Be back in a few." She reached out her hand for the menu, and Dean caught it and shook. "I'm Dean." He flashed her another brilliant smile.

"Well Dean…" Camber said slowly, weighing his name on her tongue. Dean felt a victory coming, but was surprised when she leaned towards him. Her breath was warm in his ear, and he shivered slightly.

"You're gonna need to try a bit harder than that." She whispered. Camber tugged the menu from his other hand and swished her way back to the kitchen, not sparing him a backward glance. A tattoo peeked out from the back of her shirt, another covered her shoulder. Dean grinned wider. He loved a challenge, and this girl was going to be worth the effort, he could feel it. Sam just laughed. "You know if you gathered all your conquests in once place, they could probably petition for statehood." He cracked open an older leather-bound book. "I'm gonna research, I've heard enough of your sweet talking to last several lifetimes."

Dean shook it off and thought about exactly how long it had been since he even bothered seriously trying to seduce a woman, and with that in mind he forgave himself for the goose bumps that had risen on his arms with her lips at his ear. He downed the rest of his coffee and lifted the cup with a smirk, silently beckoning her to come over and refill it.

Camber gave a wry smile and grabbed a coffee pot from another passing waitress, heading to their table again.

"Here's that coffee you wanted" she chirped, filling Sam's mug to the brim. He mumbled a distracted "Thanks."

She turned to pour what remained into Dean's mug, but he covered it with his hand.

"If you like to hear people order real meat, why do you work here?" Dean asked, gesturing to the picture of the dewy eyed cows next to the Specials board.

Camber heaved a sigh. "My aunt owns the place, and it'd break her heart if I tried to leave. Besides, every job in Lily Dale is basically the same, because the people we serve here are just the people that live here and the people who come here because they believe the same crap that the locals do. It's either here or the occult antiques store across the street, and really, what's the difference?"

Dean lifted his hand from the rim of the mug, and Camber filled it.

"That's tough. I understand the obligation to the family business though; it was the same with our Dad. After awhile, you can't quit because it becomes too much a part of who you are.

"Your shit sounds a lot heavier than mine. Feel like sharing?"

"I thought you were working." Dean said, eyeing the apron and the name tag pointedly.

"Eh. You're good looking, and my aunt has been trying to hook me up. I'll go tell her you've asked me to join you for breakfast, and voila, half a day off."

Camber swished off to return the now empty coffee pot to the kitchen. She turned to Dean and mouthed "watch this", then smiled brightly and bounded towards the counter with the register, behind which sat a comfortably plump woman of about fifty with silvery hair and laugh lines. Camber turned toward the table where he sat and gestured toward him, saying something to her aunt. Dean flashed a smile and waved. Her aunt laughed and waved back, then made a shooing motion with her hands. Camber hugged her, made a "hang on" gesture, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Dean looked at Sam. "Go sit at a different table."

Sam glanced up from his book. "Dude. It's not like I'm listening."

"Sam, I'm with you 24/7, could you just give me a few hours alone with a pretty girl?"

Sam gave Dean one of his bitch faces. "Whatever Dean. I'm getting a separate room at the motel; I never want a repeat of what happened last time. Not enough brain bleach in the world…" Sam shuddered, picked up his book and moved to an empty table nearby, glaring at Dean before resuming his reading.

Camber was back then, and Dean didn't really care if Sam was pissy or not. It wasn't just that he needed to get laid. As corny and girly as it sounded, there was something about her that made him want to keep talking to her, to know her and find out what she was like. She tossed her backpack into the corner of the booth and tucked one foot under her leg.

"So…Dean. What's your family's business?" Camber asked, restarting their conversation immediately.

"Helping people. My brother and I are um, pest control." Camber let out a soft snicker. "Our Dad started us when we were really young, and now it's just been so long and there are so many pests that need hunting down that we just can't quit. No matter how much we want to." Dean stopped talking when another waitress brought their food.

Camber must have placed her order when she was getting her stuff, and the other woman set down a stack of steaming blueberry pancakes that barely fit on the plate, a cup of warm syrup, a tall glass of milk and two sausage links in front of her. "Thanks Bree. The other order for this table is for the guy with the book over there." She pointed out Sam, and Bree nodded and walked away.

"Pest control? Is that what brought you to Lily Dale?" she shrugged. "I would be more worried about the ghosts than the termites."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean dropped his fork and his face went blank. "How do you know about ghosts?" the words tumbled out before he could stop himself.

Camber raised an eyebrow at him. "Honey, this is Lily Dale. Most psychic town in America? Even if they weren't real they would still be a popular subject here. She snickered. "Pest control? I s'pose that's a vague but accurate description for hunting."

"How do you know about hunters?" Dean felt like a broken record. Was this girl in the life? She looked young, but maybe somehow she had gotten out early. "You should keep better control of your own backyard, there's a ghost killing people on your watch." Dean said angrily.

"Relax. I'm not a hunter, I'm a psychic. Not the 'woo woo' kind that drum up all the tourism here, I'm the real deal. Like your friend Pamela."

Dean ordinarily would have taken her pronouncement with a large grain of salt, attached to some tequila, but mentioning Pamela…no one alive could possibly have told her, unless she knew Bobby, which he doubted.

"If you knew why didn't you stop it?" Dean asked, slightly calmer but still with a distinct edge to his voice.

"I can't. She'll come after me, my family...and I don't know how to get rid of a ghost. Just that there are people who do, people like you. Psychics with half a brain just chit chat with the nice ones."

For the first time, Camber looked upset. Her eyebrows were drawn together, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she stared off into space.

"Hey, it's okay. Me and my brother, this is what we do. We'll take care of your ghost, no problem. Hell, I'll even tell you how to get rid of them, so next time you can do it. But if you could tell us who she was, it would save a whole lot of time on research."

Camber's reverie broke. "I'll tell you everything I know, but I want you to take me with you."

Dean shook his head violently. "No can do. You're a civilian, you could get hurt."

"So you would send me off with nothing but instructions to help me if this happens again in the future? The first time I face _anything_, you want me to be alone?" Camber knew exactly where to push, and she had a point. Experience was the only way to train a new hunter, because all the other things flew out of your head when you were dealing with something stronger, more powerful than yourself. Your body had to move on autopilot, or it wasn't going to move at all, at least in the beginning.

"If I take you with me, I have some rules, and one condition of my own. You have to promise to go on with your normal, apple pie life afterwards. Promise me you won't get into this the way I am. It might sound cool and adventurous, but it sucks. And once you're in the life, there's pretty much no way out." Dean looked at her, really looked. She was so young and whole, she had never seen anything that equaled even the tamest of Dean's nightmares. He didn't want to drag her into this mess. Hunting had a way of becoming a bad habit, and this girl deserved to have a real life. No one deserved the rambling existence he shared with Sam, endless stretches of road between a thousand identical shitty motel rooms in a thousand identical shitty towns, a trail of salt the only thing they ever left behind.

"I want to help." Camber's voice was soft as she placed her small palm on Dean's forearm; the warmth was reassuring. Dean couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him this way, just a gentle reminder that they were there.

"Alright. We've gotta go back to the motel first." Camber raised an eyebrow and grinned with tangible sass. "Slow your roll Mr. Man, you don't even know my last name."

Dean grinned back but shook his head, settling his hand on top of hers where it still rested on his arm.

"You need basic instruction and we've got to wait until its dark. People don't take kindly to us digging up great grandma."

Camber paled. "Digging up? As in her body? What do you do with it?!"

"You torch it, with salt. It dissipates the energy." Dean was cutting up his omelet, oblivious to her discomfort.

"What happens then?" Syrup dripping from the bite on the end of her fork; she had forgotten about her food.

"You re-bury the body and hit the road before anyone has a chance to find out what you were there for." He squirted a generous blob of ketchup onto his plate.

"Not to you. To them." She asked, eyes wide.

"Oh. I guess they go to Purgatory. I mean, I never really thought about it, but that's all that makes sense. That's where monsters go, why not ghosts?" Dean shrugged.

"…does it hurt them?" her voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

"Probably. They scream." Dean mumbled around the huge bite of omelet in his mouth.

Camber put down her fork. Dean looked up at the soft clink, mouth already full of bacon. He swallowed noisily.

"Hey, are you okay? What's wrong?" Dean frowned. She looked like she was going to cry.

Camber drew in a deep steadying breath.

"I live with my aunt and uncle because my parents are dead. They died when I was five, and then their spirits followed me around. That's how I found out about my…abilities. When I was seventeen, the three of us moved to Lily Dale. My parent's spirits stayed in the house we left, their old house. A hunter got rid them because they wouldn't leave when a new family moved in." Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "I found him, demanded he bring them back. He said that he helped them cross over, that they were in Heaven and at peace. I believed him until now."

One tear slid down her cheek. Dean held her small hand between his, the difference in size almost comical. He rubbed circles into her palm with his thumb. Dean didn't talk about feelings, that was girly. But this time it was okay, because he knew that she didn't want words, and they wouldn't bring her any comfort.

She shook her head, lifted her eyes, and offered a smile. "Crying won't make it any better, but I'm sure these pancakes will help." She hacked off a fresh bite, loaded up the fork and stuffed it into her mouth.

Dean appreciated her lack of manners, just another quirk he could add to the list of things that he liked about this woman. They ate in comfortable silence, the scraping of forks and the clink of mugs the only sound between them.

When they rose to leave there wasn't a bite left on either of their plates. Dean slid a ten dollar bill under his empty mug and glanced around. He wasn't sure when Sam had left, just that he was gone. The pair walked to the register and Dean paid for their breakfast. Camber's aunt whispered something to her and giggled as Dean held the door open. Camber blushed and slid through the opening, catching Dean's hand on the way. A wide grin spread across Dean's face, and Camber laughed when she saw his expression.

"Wow. Tough guy like you likes his hand held." Dean opened the passenger door of the Impala for her, then walked around and climbed into the driver's side. "This is a really sweet ri-" Dean cut her off with a kiss she wasn't expecting. It was firm, but gentle at the same time, and sweet, carrying the promise of good things to come. He pulled away slowly, and Camber tangled their hands together again.

"We'll have time later. Now, let's turn you into a Ghostbuster."


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys, sorry this chapter took so long, and is so short. I couldn't figure out any other way to make it make sense without boring filler-y stuff. The good part is coming, cross my heart. Keep the reviews coming! 3_

They pulled up to the cemetery around midnight. The next victim had foreseen her death at 2 am, and Dean figured that would be plenty of time for a routine salt-and-burn.

Camber had a funny feeling as she passed through the gate. She walked between the brothers, and after a moment, she stopped. Her gaze swept from one side of the cemetery to the other as her eyes grew wide and filled with tears. "I wish you could see this."

Spirits filled the graveyard, it almost looked like Dia de los Muertos. Adults sat in clusters around their gravesites, talking, laughing and paying little attention to the living that walked along the paths nearby. Children ran between and sometime through the headstones, playing a game of tag. There were even a few cats, silvery gray and flickering in and out of sight, settled in the laps of the departed. Dean and Sam squinted as hard as they could, but they saw nothing. Just a typical bone yard; grave markers, granite, stone angels.

"What do you see?" Dean was in full hunter mode.

"Spirits, they're everywhere. They don't care about us, they're just… waiting to move on. Talking to pass the time." Tears ran in two straight lines down her cheeks, and Dean enveloped her hand again, squeezing softly.

"It's okay Camber. They aren't hurting, they look happy, don't they?" Sam's voice was reassuring, and Dean was glad Sam had spoken up. He had no idea what to say.

Camber nodded, and took a deep breath, swatting at her eyes impatiently. "Let's take care of her before someone else gets hurt."

She flipped on the flashlight, and walked to the nearest group, a circle of grandmotherly-looking older ladies. "Pardon me, but would you happen to know where I could find Margaret Fox's grave?" Her voice was sweet and respectful, but unchanged from the way she spoke to her aunt. They were just regular people to her.

"Of course dear, just past the angel with the holly in her hair, third on the right. But her body isn't there." The speaker was a thin woman with very round glasses and long salt-and-pepper hair. The other ladies in the circle tittered and shook their heads disapprovingly.

"A young man dug her up, and took her bones away", the plump woman to her left supplied.

"He could see us too. The man who owns the Emporium? You should watch out for him." They all nodded and scowled.

"I'll be very careful, thank you so much for your help." Camber smiled at them, and reached down to pet the cat that was winding its way around her legs, only to have her fingers pass through its head. She giggled along with the circle of women, and walked back to where Sam and Dean stood, identical expressions of confusion on their faces.

"She isn't here, Jimmy Tomorrow stole her bones. It's been him all along." Camber grabbed their arms and hauled them towards the gate. She paused to wave at the ladies, and grinned when they waved back. But when she turned to face the boys her expression was grim.

"Jimmy lives in an apartment above the Emporium."

"Then that's where we'll find what's left of Margaret."


	4. Chapter 4

_Bang._ The door flew against the wall courtesy of a swift kick from Dean.

_Bang._ Jimmy dropped the brass candleholder as he spun around, gun already drawn.

_Bang._ Sam fired at Jimmy and missed, shattering the mirror behind him.

_Bang. _The guns flew from their hands and landed on the floor behind the altar. Jimmy grinned, but his eyes flickered to the door on his right, just feet from where Camber stood.

_Bang._ Camber dashed for the door and felt an explosion of heat across her left arm, but there was no time to stop and inspect. All she could think about was getting to the bones, ending this. She threw herself across the last few feet of space and knocked the door open, her eyes scanning the room quickly. She made to stand up, but was knocked forcefully to the floor. When she turned over, Jimmy stood in the doorway, smiling sadly down at her.

"You're such a beautiful woman. Why did you have to get involved? I won't enjoy watching her kill you."

Margaret appeared over his shoulder, an evil grin marring her once-kindly features. Suddenly, Camber was being hauled up from the floor, a pair of icy hands around her neck, cutting off her breath. She struggled, but for all her efforts Margaret hung on. Camber remembered the film canister of salt in her pocket, flicked off the lid, and threw a handful at the spirit, who disappeared with a furious scream.

Jimmy's eyes darkened, all traces of sadness gone. "You stupid girl. She'll be back." Sam crept up behind Jimmy and hit him with the forgotten candlestick. Jimmy spun around and Sam went flying back into the main room, but that was all the distraction Camber needed. She threw a handful of salt across the room and set fire to the carpet and edge of the bedspread just as Margaret reappeared. The hands wrapped themselves around her neck again, and the edges of her vision darkened as the flames flickered brightly, casting shadows on the walls, the heat intensifying…

Margaret shrieked, a wail of pain and anger escaping her ruined lips. There was a flare of heat, and then she was gone in a swirl of embers.

Camber scrambled up and through the doorway, tripping a little over Jimmy. She hadn't even heard the shot that killed him, but his body lay crumpled in an unmistakable heap on the carpet. She shuddered and kept moving, helped Dean get Sam's slumped form off of the floor and out of the apartment.

Once they had shoved Sam into the Impala and driven a few blocks, Camber dialed and held the phone to her ear. "I need to report a fire at the Emporium. My name is-" She shut the phone with a loud click.

Dean chuckled, but abruptly stopped when he saw the dark stain across her left arm. "Did you get hit?"

Camber glanced down at her arm and blinked a few times. "It's only a flesh wound."

And then she passed out.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Camber perceived was that she was warm. She felt relaxed and comfortable, nestled in a bundle of blankets, a bed beneath her. A faint humming noise came from somewhere nearby, and she slowly opened her eyes to see Dean fumbling with a few take out containers at the counter of the hotel room's little kitchenette. He smiled when he saw that she was awake, and brought her a container of noodles and a bottle of water. "How do you feel?"

Camber made to stand up, and the painful twinge in her left arm reminded her of the events of the previous night. She hissed and shut her eyes. "Ow. That creepy fucker shot me."

Dean's grin widened as he placed the food on the night stand. "You were right; it is only a flesh wound. Should be all healed up in a week or three, you might not even get a scar out of it."

Camber pouted. "Scars are the best part of getting hurt. A story, laid out right there on your skin. Do I at least get a kiss for my trouble?"

Dean chuckled, but planted a soft kiss on her forehead. His smile faded. "Sam and I have another case, in Virginia. People are dying, and we're the closest. It looks like a-" Camber raised a finger to his lips. "I understand, you don't have to explain. I also gather that you two won't be back around for awhile, right?"

Dean stared at the floor, and his expression hardened. "Hunters never hit the same town twice." Camber nodded. It did make sense. Dean cleared his throat and looked her in the eye, all traces of humor gone.

"You deserve better than I could ever give you. There's a storm brewing, a big one, and we're right in the middle of it. You need to protect yourself. And the best way to do that is for us to get gone."

Camber nodded again, throat tight. She had known it would come to this, and although it wasn't a particularly pleasant feeling, she knew he was right.

While the boys were packing up their things, Camber placed a basket on the back seat of the Impala. Virginia was a long drive, and they could get there faster if they didn't have to stop for food as often. Her aunt was always overly "helpful", hence the clichéd wicker picnic basket of sandwiches, fruit and bottles of water. She turned to see Dean striding towards her with their duffle bags in hand. Sam walked to the hotel office to return their key at a rather leisurely-looking pace. Dean chucked the bags into the open trunk and shut it firmly. He turned to face Camber, a sad smile on his face.

"So I guess this is goodbye, huh?" Camber was aiming for nonchalant, but the crack in her voice gave her away. Dean brushed her long hair behind her ear and cupped the side of her face. "Stay safe. Things are going to get crazy, but I'm sure this weird little town will make it out okay." His hand fell to rest at his side.

Camber chuckled. "Of course it will. Someone is bound to see danger before it arrives, and maybe we'll believe them next time." She frowned a little. "You be careful too. If it's going to be as bad as you say, then I'm more worried about you than me."

Sam suddenly appeared at their side. "All set? Camber it was great to meet you, you were a big help." She hugged him, then Dean, and planted a kiss on Dean's cheek. "You boys stay safe."

Dean gave her a long, searching look before he turned away and got into the Impala. Sam looked at him from the corner of his eye as they drove away, Camber shrinking in the rear view mirror until they went up and over a hill, and Lily Dale faded in the wake of yet another case. The shrill sound of a phone ringing broke the somewhat-tense silence. Sam answered it, and after a short conversation, hung up. "Someone else managed to get there first, so we're off the hook." Dean's eyes flashed reflexively to the rear view mirror, but he accelerated in an attempt to ward off the temptation of turning around.

"You know, it's about that time of year." Sam said, a smile growing on his face.

"Hm?" Dean grumbled, his focus on the road.

"Our annual pilgrimage." Sam was beaming now, trying to get excited.

Dean smirked, shaking off the gloom, because there was no point in keeping it around.

"Alright Sammy, we'll go to Vegas."


End file.
